I'd've Baked a Cake
by coprime
Summary: Scott decides to bake a cake for Lance, which turns out to be more difficult than Scott originally thought. mm


Title: If I Knew You Were Coming, I'd've Baked a Cake  
  
Pairing: Scott/Lance with a dash of Pietro/Evan thrown in  
  
Disclaimer: X-Men: Evolution does not belong to me. It belongs to Marvel, the WB, and Cartoon Network, I believe. I'm making no money off of this, and it is purely for entertainment. So I ask these big, important companies not to sue me.  
  
Summary: Scott bakes a cake for Lance. It turns into an "adventure."  
  
Warnings: Two guys kissing, so don't read if you can't stand that.  
  
Notes: I would like to say that Scott's p.o.v. is a pain in the ass to write. Also? Boom Boom's not here. Don't ask me where she is; I don't know.  
  
Feedback: Yes please. If I don't know what was bad, it ain't ever gonna get better.  
  
~If I Knew You Were Coming, I'd've Baked a Cake~  
  
Scott surveyed the ingredients lined up before him. He had the cake mix-- two boxes of devil's food, as per Lance's request. And he had the frosting. It came with colored, fish-shaped sprinkles because Kitty insisted that baking should be "festive," but, Scott supposed, frosting was frosting. He'd bought two throwaway baking pans since he doubted his ability to find one, let alone two, in the Brotherhood kitchen. And Lance had scrounged up six eggs and some oil from somewhere. It looked like he was all set.  
  
Scott rooted around in the cupboards for a large enough bowl. He found it hidden behind the pipes for the sink, and black stuff had collected in the bottom. He stared at it a moment, as if those two facts were somehow the bowl's fault, before washing it thoroughly, using soap he'd borrowed from the Institute. He poured the dry mix in the bowl and realized that he needed a one-cup measuring cup. He opened the utensil drawer and found a few measuring cups, none of them the right size. But there was a wooden spoon and he'd need that later, so that at least was helpful. Scott looked in the rest of the drawers for the proper measuring cup, and, not finding it, began opening cupboards as well.  
  
All his rustling around must've made more noise than he'd originally thought because Lance yelled out, "You need some help?" from the living room.  
  
Scott glanced at the myriad of open drawers and cupboards before answering. "Yeah. I can't find the right measuring cup."  
  
Scott heard the sofa creak as Lance got up.  
  
"Well, I can--"  
  
"No, you can't." Scott used his body to block Lance's entrance into the kitchen. "I'm trying to do something nice for you, and you're not going to ruin it by helping."  
  
"And what do you expect in return? My gratitude?" Lance asked, sliding his hands down Scott's back to rest at Scott's waistline.  
  
"No." Scott threaded his fingers through Lance's hair and leaned in, pressing his lips against Lance's. Lance let out a pleased sigh and rolled his hips forward-- into Scott. Scott's fingers gripped Lance's dark locks of their own accord. Before Lance could deepen the kiss, Scott pulled away and placed his hands on Lance's chest. "I know you better than to expect gratitude." Lance tried to take a half-step forward, but Scott stopped Lance by locking his elbows. "Now go back to the living room, and get out of my kitchen." Scott smiled to take the sting out of his words, but that didn't stop Lance from shooting Scott a murderous glare as he went back to rummaging.  
  
"You want help? I'll get you some help," Lance muttered. He turned to face the house in general. "Pietro! Get your ass down here!" Behind him, he heard Scott groan.  
  
Lance felt a strong gust of wind, and then Pietro was standing in front of him.  
  
"What's so important that it warrants disturbing me?" Pietro folded his arms across his chest and tapped his foot impatiently.  
  
"Scott's trying to bake, and he needs your help."  
  
"Really?" Pietro leaned to look around Lance and into the kitchen.  
  
"No, I don't need your help!" Scott said and slammed a cupboard shut.  
  
"He can't find... something or other. I forgot what."  
  
Pietro zipped up behind Scott and peered over Scott's shoulder into the drawer Scott was rummaging through for a second time. He stood close enough for Scott to feel the other mutant's breath on his neck. "Whatcha looking for?"  
  
Lance, seeing that his revenge was being exacted, left the kitchen.  
  
Scott realized he was stuck with Pietro and silently asked for patience. Aloud he said, "I need a one-cup measuring cup."  
  
"Oh." Pietro straightened. "We don't have one of those anymore."  
  
Scott turned to face Pietro. "'Anymore'?"  
  
Pietro vaguely waved his hand in the direction of a blackened lump of something that was stuck on the counter. "Long story short: Don't ever let Lance attempt to cook anything more complicated than peanut butter sandwiches. Not even mac and cheese." Pietro grimaced. "Especially not mac and cheese."  
  
Ah. Scott had wondered what the lump was the first time he'd entered the Brotherhood kitchen, but Lance had refused to enlighten him.  
  
"Do you have a half cup then? Or a two-thirds cup?"  
  
Pietro hopped onto the counter to lounge. "Got both as a matter of fact."  
  
Scott waited a second before asking, "And *where* are they?"  
  
"In the utensil drawer."  
  
Of course. He should have guessed that, what with having seen the measuring cups in there earlier. Somehow just being around Pietro managed to kill off brain cells in a way that not even one of Kitty's fashion monologues could.  
  
Scott washed the measuring cups while Pietro watched. And he added the water, oil, and eggs while Pietro watched. He also stirred the batter while-- wait for it-- Pietro watched. Something was up; Pietro could not be quiet for any length of time unless unconscious. Then Scott looked at the stretch of counter between him and Pietro and realized what was happening.  
  
Miniscule brown spots dotted the previously immaculate surface, and, yes, there was even a chocolate fingerprint on the inside of the bowl.  
  
"Pietro," Scott said through clenched teeth, "if you continue to eat the cake mix, there won't be enough left for a cake."  
  
"And how do you plan on stopping me?" Pietro got another fingerful of batter and slowly licked it off just to show he could.  
  
Scott narrowed his eyes, even though he knew the gesture was lost behind his glasses. He couldn't blast Pietro, and it was damn tough to threaten him without having previous planned something. A bribe might just do the trick however.  
  
"If you leave, I'll call the Institute and ask if Evan can join me at the library, saying that I promised to help him with his bio homework."  
  
"Deal."  
  
Pietro left; Scott suspected he'd gone to his room to primp. It was a good thing Pietro had his speed, otherwise he'd constantly be running late. Scott snatched the phone from its cradle and began dialing.  
  
"Hey-- Jean? Is Evan there? Okay, 'cause he was supposed to meet me at the Bayville Library and he's not here. No, just tell him to get here as fast as he can. All right? Thanks. Bye."  
  
That done, Scott set the temperature on the oven. He greased the bake pans with some margarine and poured in the raw cake mix. Now he had to wait because he'd rather stupidly forgotten to turn on the oven when he'd first started. He'd been distracted by his search for a measuring cup, after all.  
  
Scott brought his bowl, spoon, and two measuring cups to the sink, intending to wash them while the oven warmed up. Before he turned on the faucet, he snuck his own fingerful of mix. He hadn't while actually cooking since that was unsanitary, but now....  
  
The batter was sweet and chocolatey, and of course it was fun to lick his finger clean. So he took another swipe from the bowl. Before long, he'd cleaned the entire bowl and the oven had beeped its temperature readiness. Scott put the two pans in and then he really cleaned the bowl-- using soap and water and not fingers.  
  
He finished cleaning just as the first, subtle scents of chocolate began winding their way through the house. It wouldn't be long before there was a whole contingent of people eagerly waiting in the kitchen. Scott heard the backdoor slam shut. The first of the group was about to join him.  
  
Evan appeared in the doorway, polka dot helmet casually hanging from his fingers. "Hey, man. Not that I'm objecting, but--" Evan spotted the (now empty) boxes of cake mix. "You invited me over for cake?"  
  
Scott threw away the boxes as he talked. "No. I bribed Pietro to leave me alone by inviting you over."  
  
Evan nodded. "Cool. Later." Evan waved as he left, and Scott could hear his teammate's footsteps as he jogged up the stairs.  
  
Amazingly enough, no one else bothered him while he was waiting for the cake to finish baking. Oh sure, he'd had to chase Lance out of the kitchen more than once but that didn't really count as being bothered. In between Lance's visits, Scott had found a small dishtowel that he could use for a hot mitt. He hadn't come across anything large enough to set the pans on, so he'd just have to hope that he didn't end up scorching the Brotherhood's counter. Not that they'd notice if he did.  
  
The oven timer started beeping incessantly, and Scott hurried to turn it off. He carefully extracted the two pans from the oven and set them on the counter. He'd have to wait some more before they'd be cool enough for him to frost.  
  
There was more waiting involved in baking than he liked, so it was probably a good thing he'd chosen something as simple as cake from a box.  
  
A few minutes later, Fred lumbered into the kitchen and sat at the table. The larger teen didn't say anything, so Scott got to the task of frosting. Neither of the pans were cool enough to handle without getting burnt yet, but Scott doubted it would be long until the other four mutants in the house joined Fred, all of them wanting cake. Scott frosted with one hand while the other held the pan steady with the dishtowel once again serving as a hot mitt.  
  
Todd entered and squatted in his seat as Scott moved on to scattering the fish sprinkles evenly over the now-frosted cakes. Todd leaned forward to get a better look at the cakes.  
  
"It's pink, yo!"  
  
Scott paused to look at Todd. "Pink?"  
  
"The cake's pink!"  
  
Scott snickered at the situation. Of course Kitty would buy pink frosting; what could be more festive than pink? And he hadn't realized because of his glasses. Vanilla frosting was supposed to be white, so he expected it to look pink.  
  
"Todd. There's not much I can do about the frosting's color at this point."  
  
"Besides," Fred chimed in, "it'll taste the same as if it wasn't pink."  
  
Todd sat back, folding his arms across his chest. "I'll give it a chance, but you better be right about it not tasting funny," he grumped.  
  
Pietro and Evan were the next ones to join the party in the kitchen, a rather telling flush still staining Pietro's pale skin. Pietro, in a fit of uncharacteristic helpfulness, got plates and forks for everyone. He still, however, managed to sit down before Evan. Now the only person missing was Lance.  
  
The group waited in silence several seconds for Lance to join them. Then they started reaching for the cake.  
  
"Hey." Scott brandished the knife he'd used to frost the cake and intended to use to cut the cake. "This for Lance, so none of you can have any until he gets here."  
  
"But we're hungry, man," Todd whined.  
  
"And since the one pan's for me, can't I start early?" Fred asked.  
  
"No." Scott glared at Todd and Fred to emphasize his point. Lance had to know that everyone was waiting on him. He was sitting in the next room, for Pete's sake.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Scott could see Evan playing with Pietro's hands. Which kept Pietro from using his speed to cut the cake before Scott could stop him. Scott made a mental note to do something nice for Evan once they got back to the Institute.  
  
Lance sauntered in moments before Scott caved to the determination he could see in Fred's eyes.  
  
"Looks good. Why aren't you cutting?"  
  
Scott knew that Lance knew why. And the laughter in Lance's eyes confirmed it. Scott smiled as he began cutting. Lance might still be retaliating from when he'd cut short their make-out session earlier, but Scott could give just as good as he could get.  
  
~END~ 


End file.
